Sheesh. Oh well, why remember the lessons of history, when you can be Number 1 in February!

Over our 7-year recession, we have won the February World Series several times. Remember when we snarfed A-Rod from the Redsocks' Jerusalem manger scene? Hell, we won that February World Series. Then we got The Big Unit. Remember riding down the Canyon of Heroes, while the sportswriters spewed happy ticker tape? We won that February World Series, too.

As Clarence Thomas would say, "Well, whooptee-damm-do."

Listen: It would take the team of Woodward and Geraldo to figure out why the Twins passed on accepting Phil and Melky for Johan, the Pride of Hugo Chavez. I think it was the Supermodel hidden inside them, marveling over all the suitors at her door. She said, "I'll sleep with the one who jumps off the highest roof." In the Rumsfeldian fog of erection, we climbed the fire escape. We stood on the ledge. But we didn't jump.

We knew she just wanted to see us splatter.

Now, some journalism class analysts are carping that we didn't charge in and offer Alan Horne, Jesus Montero, Justin Tuck and Dopey Dildox, and seduce the supermodel with scouting reports from Baseball America. We could have won the February World Series.

Yeesh. Thank God we climbed down off that roof.

We talked to that supermodel. She took off her blouse. One boob said, "Kevin." The other said, "Brown." (A dangling broach said, "Vote for George W. Bush.") We remembered history's lessons. The Mets nuzzled up, ponied up, climbed the roof, and halfway to the pavement, proposed marriage.

Yes, the famous team of Blanchflower and Oswald, writing in Social Science & Medicine, say that despite Viagra, facelifts and bras with suspension bridge engineering, “mental distress tends to reach a maximum in middle age.”

They studied 2 million people. Guess what they found: Middle aged slobs are utterly effing unbearable, not only to everybody else, but to themselves.

How does anybody survive it? Here are Branchflower & Oswald’s hypotheses, translated for you by our correspondent:

BRANCHFLOWER & OSWALD: “One possibility is that individuals learn to adapt to their strengths and weaknesses, and in mid-life quell their infeasible aspirations.”

MONS MEG: “WTF? Forget about being a rock star or, for that matter, being anything, you flat-out loser. Asphyxiate your dreams, and you feel much better.”

---BRANCHFLOWER & OSWALD:“Cheerful people live systematically longer than the miserable, for reasons not currently understood, and that the well-being U-shape in age thus traces out in part a selection effect.”

MONS MEG: “WTF? Miserable people die of misery. Got it? WHAT'S LEFT ARE CHEERLEADERS AND MEMBERS OF DOOR-TO-DOOR RELIGIONS.”-----

BRANCHFLOWER & OSWALD: “A kind of comparison process is at work: 'I have seen school-friends die and come eventually to value my blessings during my remaining years.'”

MONS MEG: “WTF? Turning40 sucks, OK? And 45 is worse. The alternative sucks most of all.”

-----BRANCHFLOWER & OSWALD:“It seems desirable that future work aim to understand the roots of the U-shaped pattern.”

MONS MEG: “This comes through loud and clear. We need more grant money.”

On the bright side, the scientists say healthy 70somethings will return to the happiness of their 20s.

On the real side, anybody who truly remembers their 20s can only shudder.

I confess I had completely forgotten this, but Hawkins was the losing pitcher when David Wells threw his perfect game in 1998. I'm predisposed to like him, because remember that crazy rainstorm last summer in Colorado, when the Phillies endearingly ran out to help the grounds crew with the tarp? Well, the Rockies didn't exactly distinguish themselves there, as just one single home team player offered assistance -- and that was, of course, LaTroy Hawkins.

Training in Tempe, Arizona this offseason, Manny Ramirez is conveniently located for this weekend’s Super Bowl in Glendale. But he’s not going to just take the day off, no sir. According to WZLX in Boston, his agent is calling around town to the various Patriots bars in the area, asking them if they’d like to have the 2004 World Series MVP drop by during the game.

No joke: Leyritz is looking at 15 years. $10 million dollars in booze etc. gone, too. "...spent thousands at South Florida nightclubs and liquor stores."

"It's not uncommon, experts say, for some professional athletes to have rough adjustments to retirement..."

Oh, and a family is left without a wife and mother: Fredia Ann Veitch.

"She was a beautiful wife, a loving mother, and so vibrant,'' Jordan Veitch said to The Miami Herald the day after her death. "She lit up the room and always tried to make people smile. She was so outgoing.''

This is terrible. How can God inflict such horrible suffering on His children?

For so many years, they were the self-appointed Chosen Few, united in pain, forged in humiliation, the Lost Tribe of Pumpsie Green. Now, OMG! Every day, every minute, they must cope with the cold tendrils of victory tightening around their loss-starved testicles. Boston should change its name to the City of Job. It's just not fair! As the poor guy says, what will they tell the children?

Yeesh. These people probably whine during phone sex. They would fight over a chance to get lice. They should build a statue of Bill Buckner to honor the glory days. They must look at Kansas City and say, "God, it must be wonderful to live there."

If there was ever a reason to root for Eli Manning this Sunday, now we have it: So these poor, boil-faced souls can get back on their knees and suffer in delight. Tom Brady is threatening the Class of 2016.

UPDATE BEFORE GOING TO WORK: Upon second read, there is a WORSE quote in that Times story: "Now we don’t have a great enemy to point to — New York, we’ve become them.”For starters, after the Redsocks win 20 more World Championships, they'll become us. By the time that happens, the city of New England will be underwater, and Mitt Schilling will be governor of Massachusetts. Right now, they're Sally Field accepting the Oscar. They are Britney Spears, marveling at the birthday gifts she's receiving from her personal assistants. They are an oversized version of Utica, New York, on ecstacy.

Monday, January 28, 2008

David will be spewing color on YES this year, replacing the former Mr. Halle Barre and our new manager.

Evidently, the 7-year statute of limitations has ended on Cone's 2001 decision to sign with the New England Redsocks. Once upon a time, becoming a traitor to the cause meant closing the book on post-career Yankeehood. Now, when a double-agent checks back into the hotel, we simply turn our head and cough.

Don't take this wrong. David Cone was a great Yankee. We'll always remember him glaring into Joe Torre's dark eyes, as the 1996 World Series seemed to be crashing down around us, and pitching out of a pivotal jam. Maybe for that alone, he deserves slack.

But when he signed with New England, he stuffed it to us. Now he's back on the payroll. Fine. A guy named Bernie Williams chose not to jump ship. Is anybody bringing him back?

If it happens -- hell, when it happens -- let's just hope the national news media has the guts to tell the truth:

Giuliani was leading all GOP contenders in mid-October, when he suddenly -- inexplicably -- announced that he was rooting for the New England Redsocks in the World Series.

In that moment, the brilliant halo of the World Trade Center attacks suddenly turned into Manny Ramirez' bong-watery dreadlocks, and for the first time, America's Mayor found himself actually taking shit from Hillary Clinton on the subject of the Yankees. Yes, taking shit from Hillary Clinton about the Yankees.

He never got it back. Now, Joe Torre is gone, Don Mattingly is gone, and soon, so will Rudy, which is really too bad, because we'll never have a chance to see him answering questions about how he was married seven years to his second cousin. It was something to live for, like Brian Bruney's next blowup.

On the heels of his East Coast success, Joe Torre is being urged to bring his unique acting style to Beverly Hills. Too many young actors can't pull off the big emotional scenes, and Torre, as new Dodgers manager, can show them how it's done.

Check out these stills from some of Joe's Oscar-worthy performances of the past.

As Mickey, the loveable trainer who teaches Rocky Balboa how to fight -- and live -- in "Rocky.""Women weaken legs, ya bum. From now on, yer gonna be eatin' lightnin' and crappin' thunder! Get that chicken!"

As tortured psychologist Dr. Malcolm Crowe in "The Sixth Sense:""Let me get this straight, kid. You see dead people, right? And you see me, right? Hmm-mm. Wait a minute! Fuck me! I'M DEAD! THAT'S WHAT EXPLAINS THIS FRICKIN MOVIE!"

The greatest Yankee player in modern history, Don Mattingly (applause)...

And the most beloved centerfielder in recent Yankee history, Bernie Williams (applause)...

Yankee icons. And they are gone. GONE! (Booing)

Our current firstbaseman is Wilson Betemit. (Groans) Our rotation includes three rookie starters. Carl Pavano (shouting, booing) is still in pinstripes. We still have nobody to get the ball to Mariano Rivera, who is 38.

IT IS TIME FOR CHANGE. (Applause).

We cannot keep trading youth for age. (Applause).

We cannot continue the failed policies of recent years. (Applause.)

But let's be realistic. We are in a recession. (Booing) To try and forestall it with trades and free agent signings would be a grave mistake. We'll numb the pain but continue the path, which has led to our current plight.

For the fourth day, the U.S. government is scouring the landscape, seeking the hair-jelled zephyr once known as "Knobby," (pictured right) in hopes of forcing him to testify against his friends in the nation's campaign against top-secret muscle-building potions.

He has vanished like the bases he once stole.

Somewhere out there, Knobby is watching us, toying with us, laughing at us -- as the most advanced domestic surveillance force in world historyplods helplessly along on his carefully covered trail.

Where are the cool wiretaps we were promised? Where are the sky satellites? Why wasn't someone reading his emails, and following two cars behind his every trip to the corner store for cigarettes? Did we not have fresh DNA? Did we not have an infiltrator within his midst?

What happened to Homeland Security?

Each day, Knobby grows stronger, more confident, more strident... more dangerous.

And our national sense of pride grows weaker, as recent stock market fluctuations have revealed.

Chuck Knoblauch has become to the Bush administration what Britney Spears long ago became to fishnet stockings: A stomach-turning embarrassment, revealing that a once proud network of core support has withered into a torn, fibrous illusion, designed only to conceal images we prefer not to see.

He is out there. He's plotting. He's sneering. And make no mistake: The war on performance enhancing drugs will not be won until Knobby is in custody and telling the world what we want to hear: The terrified yelps of another ex-jock invoking the Fifth Amemdment.

Saturday, January 26, 2008

Last year Apple gave us the Kindle (clunky) and the iPhone (pricey). Now comes the newest gadget du jour, the Macbook Air... clunky and pricey. This ultra-light, ultra-thin laptop has a few ultra-annoying problems:

1.Battery can't be replaced at home. What? Battery low? No problem. Send it to the Apple/Grinch workshop, (Burma?) For a freaking battery.

His name is Kyle Perkins. If that doesn't sound American, what does? Check out that logo on his cap. He's going to give Jesus Montero a run for His cross.

He's only 16, peaches and cream, lips like strawberry wine. Alright, disregard that line. He's a stud, the bull-goose lion of Canberra, Australia. And like Jesus Montero, he's a backstop, which means we are stockpiling pubescent catchers. Hank Steinbrenner is becoming the Auric Goldfinger of young catchers. In the year 2015, when the ice caps melt and the asteroid hits, we'll have all the world's supply of catchers! Take that, Theo!

No word on money. The Canberra Times, (now, the YogiBerra Times) via Sliding Into Home, avoid mentioning dollars. Could be we got him cheap, and they're hopped up because, hey, they're Aussies, who are just sunburnt Canadians, and always 32-ounces away from a good hopping-up.

Still... a 7-year deal for a high school junior on the Krakatoa side of the world.

Where Kyle Perkins lives, it is summertime.

And the living is easy. So hush, little baby... Disregard that last line.

For starters, if there is a more addicted guzzler of overpriced veterans in the universe than George Steinbrenner, it exits on some bizarre planet where rocks haven’t been invented. Then there is Hank, who in December practically got down on one knee to offer Minnesota a diamond ring in his teeth, begging them to take Melky, Hughes and somebody else – a trade offer so horrifying to Yankee fans that the organization has spent a month in damage control, pretending it was a crack hallucination.

Now, the official line is this: Santana? Pttuui. Bah. Pyush. We could care less. We prefer young players. We have no interest in, what was the name again? Santolo? Sanfrancisco? We have – say - are you going to finish that cigarette?

What a farce. They are like 5-year-olds skipping around a church basement in musical chairs, while the record player drones “Theme from Titanic.” One of these days, the music will stop, Minnesota will announce a pending deal, and we’ll watch Hank and Hal and Cash and maybe even the old man (bless his heart) scrambling for the nearest chair like Shriners at a peep show.

Melky? Kennedy? Hughes? Horne? Jesus Montero? Yeeesh. Those guys must shudder every time the phone rings. Next stop, Minnesota. Bring earmuffs and a cheese-slicer.

What a line they spout. Minnesota doesn’t believe it. Boston doesn’t believe it. The fans don’t believe it. So who are they kidding?

What in God's name is this about? A relationship? Yeesh. They bantered like Brad and Angelina in "Mr. and Mrs. Smith." All they needed was Star Jones and they'd have a quorum for the World Cutsie-Wootsie Society.

"I deal with all 28 teams," the Yankees' Cashman said with a wink when asked about his negotiating strategy, pointedly leaving out the 29th team, Boston. "Then, when I'm about to hang up with the 28th team, I say, 'Hey, do you know what Boston's up to?'"

"... Said with the wink....?"

Yeeeesh!

I hope nobody tells George Mitchell about this. Because baseball may have a far uglier problem than juicing. With these two oralizing in public, the game could get banned in Texas. How do we teach our children to hate Manny Ramirez when Cash and Eppie are co-mingling in some hot tub, staring at the stars and sharing Johnny Damon stories? We might as well learn that Dick Cheney plays poker with Osama on Tuesday.

Not that there's anything wrong with it, of course. (Insert wink.)

In fact, we at IT IS HIGH, before finishing our posts and going to bed, always say, "Hey, do you know what Yankee Muse is up to?"

6. As per instructions, slap body gingerly. Note lack of response. Contemplate. Tell body you are tired of body's game. Tell body you are a professional, and you don't like being jerked around like this.

TOKYO (AP) - The Boston Red Sox are putting advertisements on their uniforms for the first time.

The World Series champions said Wednesday they will wear sleeve patches with the logo "EMC" when they open the season with a two-game series against the Oakland Athletics at the Tokyo Dome on March 22 and 23.

EMC Corp. is a data-storage company based in Hopkinton, Mass. Ads usually are prohibited from uniforms in Major League Baseball, but the sport has made exceptions for games in Japan.

A committee statement also said that as of Thursday afternoon, Chuck Knoblauch had not been found by the United States Marshals Service to be served with a subpoena. Knoblauch, Pettitte and Clemens had McNamee as a trainer. McNamee told Mitchell he injected them with performance-enhancing drugs.

This could be Knobby's greatest legacy.

He can pull an Abbie Hoffman, eluding Big John Law for years, now and then granting interviews to selected media. He'll become Che' Knoblauch, a symbol of growth hormone rights, the man who refused to turn his butt in to the brownshirts of the totalitarian state. Noam Chomsky will cite him. Keith Olbermann will forgive him for beaning Keith's mom behind first base. He will be the Yankee That Got Away.

When Boston had a pro football team, back in the days of the American Football League, the town wasn’t big enough to support it. And it was a damn shame, when you think about how much Gino Cappelletti gave to that city. He's still the greatest player in AFL history.

To get decent fan support, the Boston Patriots became the New England Patriots.

Thus, they built hotbeds of rooters in York, Maine and Burlington, Vermont, where locals could listen to the games on shortwave radio and shout, "Yea, Patriots! That's my region’s team!”

It’s the same with clam chowder, by the way. Nobody calls it Boston clam chowder.

These days, the Redsocks claim to be New England’s team.

And we at IT IS HIGH say, "Rightfully so!"

Only one other New England team last year could have given the Redsocks a tussle for the regional crown: the Pawtucket Pawsox, led by Jacoby Ellsbury, who clubbed 2 tape measure home runs and batted a crisp .298! When the Ell-train gets hot, anything can happen. But, still, the Redsocks would have been favored.

And next year, 'Coby will be patrolling center field for the Redsocks.

Why not let him slug his pair of dingers for THE NEW ENGLAND REDSOCKS?

No reason not to, if baseball has any guts.

If it wants to shed the steroid scandal.

If it wants to get with the damn program.

If it's big enough to handle a regional team with regional marketing and regional sales.

Don't duck this opportunity, sir.

While you mull it over, we'll be waiting in front of our New England Legal DVDs with a New England cream pie.

Scientists across the globe Tuesday hailed a major mathematical breakthrough, after several Yankeeologists, competing to calculate how many innings Phil Hughes will pitch next year, produced logarithms to unlock the secrets of life.

The bloggers sought to prove the trade of two grade A (Sickels Scale) prospects for a Johan Santana would backfire, based on a 13 percent injury rate. Using formulas and equations only they understood, the researchers found a 71 percent certainty in the existence of God, and a whopping 94 percent certainty in the existence of Joba Chamberlain.

Amazingly, the bloggers used pencils and paper, rather than the Cray supercomputers used by Harvard University professors attempting the same feat. They projected Hughes' career wins and losses, along with gallstones, reproductive cycles and his exact moment of death. Unfortunately, they refused to collaborate due to violent disagreements over Ian Kennedy's value as a trading chip.

Click on the "About Me" tab on the blog of our soon-to-be good friend Phil Hughes, and you get this:

"This is an example of a WordPress page, you could edit this to put information about yourself or your site so readers know where you are coming from. You can create as many pages like this one or sub-pages as you like and manage all of your content inside of WordPress."

Obviously, Phil is far too modest to write his own biography. Can we help him out here?

"He was born in a manger, and wrapped in swaddling clothes ..."

Oh wait, that's Jesus Montero. My bad.

So, anyone care to take a stab at a proper bio blurb for our friend Phil?

Word arrives through our new pal Yankees Muse that PHIL HUGHES IS BLOGGING!!! Scoops: he apparently wants to be called Phil, not Phillip!! And he likes the Chargers over the Pats and the Giants over the Packers!! This is even bigger news than Edwar Ramirez' MySpace page, which I'm starting to believe isn't really my 'friend' Edwar's at all...

Friday, January 18, 2008

Last year, we got him from the Dodgers for Scott Proctor, after Scott began setting fire to his uniforms.

We got Proctor and Bubba Crosby from the Dodgers in 2004 for Robin Ventura, after Robin couldn't bend over.

We got Robin from the Mets in 2001 for David Justice, after Justice dumped Halle Barre because she was so ugly, he couldn't stand to look at her. (He also lost his batting eye.)

We got Justice from Cleveland in 2000 for Rickie Ledee, Jake Westbrook and Zach Day, because, hey, we were into trading everybody under age 23..We got Westbrook from Montreal in 1999, with Ted Lilly and Christian Parker for Hideki Irabu, a/k/a "fat toad," because, well, by then he was a running gag..We got Hideki from Japan, after trading future failed superstar Ruben Rivera and Rafael Medina to the San Diego Padres for the rights to dick around with him.

Footnote: Rivera made headlines in 2002 by stealing and selling Derek Jeter’s glove. Our question: Was it a Wilson?

Congratulations, Redsocks!You really are the champs.And for the next 100 years,You have a brand new Gramps..You know him as Curt Schilling.You love to hear him talk.He hobnobs with Dick Cheney,And waves his bloody sock..He really is a genius,And humble, too, you’ll see.And where there is a microphone,That’s where his sock will be.

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

ESPN’s all-knowing and venerable Peter Gammons is reporting that after intense soul-searching, leadership of the morally upright Redsock Nation is reconsidering its past refusal to trade 24-year-old sensation Jacoby Ellsbury to the Twins. Boston may deal the future Hall of Famer -- who clubbed 2 long home runs and batted a crisp .298 last year at Pawtucket --for a package of Johan Santana, Joe Nathan, Joe Mauer, several prospects and cash.

Gammons says Redsock management changed its view due to fears that the Yankees might obtain Santana in exchange for Philip Hughes, Ian Kennedy, Joba Chamberlain, Melky Cabrera, Jose Tabata, Chien Ming Wang, Robbie Cano and Jesus Montero. If that happened, Gammons says, it’s universally accepted that New York would be unbeatable. Yes, Gammons repeats, the Yankees would win every game, and their new general manager, Hank Steinbrenner, would be hailed as a genius by sportswriters, such as Peter Gammons.

Based on inside sources, Gammons says all of baseball fears the Yankees will not only get Santana, but will also dump that bunch of no-talents that Gammons personally guarantees won't pan out. In fact, Gammons nearly refused to write the story, fearing that it would unfairly tip off Yankee management to Boston's secret dread. Only because of his unquenchable zeal for truth-telling, no matter who gets hurt, did Gammons go public with his shocking exclusive.

Next week: Gammons and partner George Mitchell ask whether MLB should “make an example” of any one particular team, if one seems to have too many players accused of using steroids. If so, would any one team stand out?

Tuesday, January 15, 2008

The Yankees have invited future savior/designated hitter Jesus H. Montero to spring training, where he will be the youngest guy in the clubhouse, with the exception of Brian Cashman's body double.

Jeez is 18, barely old enough to watch a Christopher Walken movie. Baseball America ranks him 6th in the organization's horse sheet, based on teeth plate imprints and stool sample analysis. We've already paid the guy more than a million dollars, so the gag's on us if he's the next Jackson Melian. (If you're scoring at home, Jackson Melian was the last future Yankee savior with a Biblical sound; he was named after Reggie and was the reincarnation of Babe Ruth, according to local dignitary. The day he signed, Bobby Murcer called him, "Jackson Million." We traded him, Ed Yarnall and Drew Henson -- yeech, another future savior -- for Denny "Train Whistle" Neagle. Yeeech, this is nightmare down Bad Memory Lane.)

More than a million bucks? Who cares! Tra-la-la, it's January. Jeez could be our starting catcher -- assuming Jorge Posada ever retires, which we officially oppose -- in the year 2020, known to the Chinese as "The Year of Hugh Downs."

Best Career Ending Psycho Meltdown: Colter Bean, May 4: No outs, 2 walks, 2 hits, 4 earned runs. Took over for Kei Igawa, who gave up eight runs. Adios, Mr. Bean.Best Ridiculous Excuse and Implied Suggestion of Future Success: Kyle Farnsworth, April 14: “I think I'm rushing myself a little too much. It's still early in the season, but it's something that I've got to get done right now. I don't want it carrying over." Congrats, Kyle. Slow down.

Most Agonizing Meaningless Decision: Joe Torre, June 9, on choosing to keep Sean Henn and send Chris Britton to Scranton. “It was a tough decision…We just felt Sean Henn seems to be improving." Like the choice between rickets and scurvy.Most Over-optimistic Prediction: Johnny Damon, April 6, on his strained calf: “It's feeling pretty good today…I'm definitely going to make myself available to the skipper if he needs me for anything… There was massive improvement last night. I'm close to being ready.” He was ready in September.

Most Complete Advance Summary of the Mitchell Report: Jason Giambi, May 15, dictated to a Chicago newspaper: “What we should have done a long time ago was stand up -- players, ownership, everybody -- and said: 'We made a mistake.’. We should have apologized back then and made sure we had a rule in place and gone forward. ... Steroids and all of that was a part of history. But it was a topic that everybody wanted to avoid. Nobody wanted to talk about it." If Giambi had recited names, this could have been the Mitchell Report. Because he didn't, it's better.

Most Prophetic Winter of 2007 that Nobody Noticed: Edwar Ramirez, somewhere in the Caribbean. He struck out 34 batters in 24 innings for the Tigres del Licey, but got blasted for 4.88 ERA. Hot or cold, that was Edwar. The change-up giveth, and the change-up taketh away. Adios.

In the beanball war between Roger Clemens and ex-trainer Brian McNamee, one pivotal question has emerged:

Did the former future first-ballot Hall of Famer develop an abscess on his butt, as McNamee claims, due to repeated needle pokes full of steroids?

Frankly, nobody wanted this.

In fact, we urge you to send children out of the computer room before scrolling down.

No, it's not indecent. We just feel, well, unclean.

But we at IT IS HIGH cannot suspend our neverending quest for truth simply because it makes our chair cushions feel lumpen. We long ago took on the steel cage responsibility of examining each and every hard, cruel fact. We modeled this site after the PBS series "NOVA." So buck up, dammit, and take a hard, cruel look at the evidence.